


Next Time You Think of Beautiful Things

by hanktalkin



Series: The Pretty Follies that Themselves Commit [1]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Fluff and Angst, Foster Care, Grumpy Old Men, M/M, Veterans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-24 19:49:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7520881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanktalkin/pseuds/hanktalkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>modernish AU where Demo owns a tattoo parlor and Soldier is a customer who keeps coming back for increasingly stupid tattoos. Demo’s not sure if he should become an enabler or not</p>
<p>why does this take place in Seattle? I don’t know. I don’t even know if Seattle has a lot of tattoo shops. maybe ive got too much second son on the brain</p>
<p><a href="http://teamtrashbag2.tumblr.com/post/112113622682/i-like-the-idea-of-soldier-having-a-lot-of-tattoos">semi inspired by this art</a> (in it, Tavish only has the one tattoo. and there are some other differences but I tried to keep it mostly the same)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introductions

A tinkling of a bell rang through the shop, alerting the owner that someone had deigned to enter the _Eye of the Beholder_ on an otherwise uneventful Sunday evening. Before he could even stand to see to see who it was, a loud Bostonian accent beat him to it.

“’Sup man. Here for a tramp stamp? Or ya wanna get a bleedin’ skull cover-up of your ex-wife’s name?”

“Is that how you greet a potential customer, short pants? The last city boy who talked to me like that got a boot so far up his ass he tasted shoe polish for weeks!”

The owner sighed. Two sentences in and Scout was already causing trouble. He got to his feet and made his way to the front of the shop.

“Whoa, what’s your major malfunction, brother? I’m just tryin’ to make conversation.”

“If that is your ‘conversation’ then your rabble must be smacking your own ass and making chimp noises! What sort of establishment is this? I demand to see your manager!”

“Well, you’re in luck then,” the owner said, stepping into the rather small reception. “Tavish DeGroot, pleasure tae meet you.” He held out a hand.

The newcomer jumped at Tavish’s sudden appearance. He was a bit shorter than the owner, stockier, and sporting a slight underbite. Most offbeat were his clothes: a blue button-down too cool for the autumn weather, and overlarge hat to block out the non-existent sun. A tourist maybe? He was certainly dressed for someplace much warmer than Seattle.

Regaining his composure, the man shook Tavish’s hand. Tavish could see the accent had given him pause. Or maybe it was the missing eye. Most people recovered from that pretty quickly, but this man let the handshake go on longer than necessary as he gazed at Tavish in bewilderment. He must have realized it, because he snapped his hand away just as Tavish was about to ask him if he was alright.

“You the owner?” he asked stiffly.

“Aye, I am,” Tavish affirmed. “Sorry ‘bout me apprentice. He’s a bit overzealous with people.”

“He’s also standin’ right here, ya asswipe,” Scout grumbled.

“And why _is_ he standin’ right here?” Tavish asked him. “Shouldnae he be unloadin’ the new coils in the back?”

“But I-”

“Scout. Go.”

The visitor watched the young man retreat venomously. “His name his Scout?” he asked, once Scout was out of earshot.

“No, but that’s a long story. Mind if we move tae the drawin’ room? Bit cramped in here, and I’d like tae be somewhere atmospheric if I’m greetin’ new customers.”

After leading the man to the drawing room, Tavish pulled out a chair for him, making a show of being cordial. Even in the best of times he prided his shop on customer service, but he had a feeling this man could be trouble. It didn’t help that his eyes were half obscured by the hat, making his expression difficult to read. Tavish sat across from him, flashing a wide grin that would hopefully sooth his ruffled feathers.

“Let’s start over then,” Tavish began. “Welcome tae the _Eye of the Beholder_ , where your vision is the one that matters.” He had always prided himself on that one, even if Scout said it with more sarcasm than humanly possible. Fuck Scout anyway. It was a great slogan.

“Uh-huh,” the stranger said, looking around the room with a hint of awe.

Tavish couldn’t blame him. The walls were lined with hundreds of designs his apprentices had made over the years. They covered all sorts of different styles: biomechanical, yantra, Irezumi, realistic, and even some authentic Ta Moko. It was impressive, even if many of the original artists had moved on from Tavish and his little shop.

“So, what can I do for you today Mister…?”

That snapped the man out of his trance. “Oh, uh, Doe. Jane Doe.” He reached forward to shake Tavish’s hand.

Ignoring the strange name and the fact they had already shook, Tavish put his hand forward as well. This one was mercifully brief.

“And, um…I’d like a tattoo?” Doe said, retracting his hand.

“Well, I’ve got some great news for you mate: this is, in fact, a tattoo parlor. What can I get you? Somthin’ big? Small? Cover-up? You got some references tae show me?”

Just as Tavish thought he was loosing the other man, his eyes lit up.

“Yes! References! I brought references!”

Doe fumbled with his front pocket, extracting a phone and tapping it on. It took him a few seconds to scroll to the picture, handing it to Tavish when he did so. The photo on the phone was small and grainy, taken of _another_ photo framed in glass. The second photo was of a bald eagle clutching the American flag with rockets shooting out behind it, barely distinguishable with a bright white reflection bouncing off the glass.

“I dunnae ken if I’m goin’ tae be able tae do much with this Mr. Doe. You dunnae have anything bigger?”

“I was going to print it out but…” Doe shifted bashfully. “I couldn’t figure out how to get it off the phone.”

“Well, they dunnae exactly make these little things for men like us,” Tavish said, handing it back. “Too many bells ‘n whistles in me opinion.”

“Exactly!” Doe agreed. “It’s these damn techno junkies! Clogging up their heads with tweeters and youtunes…got to press a million buttons just to take a goddamned picture.”

“You’re tellin’ me, mate. For me birthday, bought meself the newest iphone. It’s been three weeks and I cannae get the bloody thing tae stop talkin’ tae me!”

Doe laughed, and Tavish joined him. After so long being surrounded by his college-age apprentices and his younger cliental, it was good to speak to someone his own age every now and again. Doe seemed a good man now that he wasn’t throwing a fit in the middle of the lobby.

“Alright, next question,” Tavish said once the laugher had died down. “How big do you want it?”

Doe put his thumb from one shoulder to the other, making a general swooping motion a cross his chest.

“That big, eh? Well I can write up a quote for you, if you like.”

Tavish grabbed some paper from a nearby desk, scratching out some quick math while Doe looked around the room. When he sat back down, he passed the paper to Doe.

“You’ll have about two weeks tae heal in between each visit, and it’ll take about six visits. I charge $100 per hour, and the apprentices charge $75. It all depends on who you want doing it.”

Doe looked up from the quote. “What makes you more expensive?”

Tavish blinked in surprise. He thought it was obvious, but if Doe was curios, he didn’t mind giving an explanation. “Experience. Both for me and for them. I let the apprentices undercut me a little, since they’re the ones who need tae practice on a regular basis. They get more customers, but I get the ones who really want the best o’ the best. You get what you pay for, and the extra twenty-five gets you two decades o’ experience.”

“You do not even have any tattoos,” Doe pointed out. After all, even Scout’s dragon tattoos visibly peeked out from under his red uniform.

Tavish laughed. “Oh, I have tattoos lad. Just nae in places I show tae random men walkin’ intae me shop. Besides,” he added, leaning in conspiratorially, “there’s and old sayin’: if you walk intae a parlor where one artist has good tats and one artist has crap ones, pick the crap man. ‘Cause he certainly dinnae do that tae himself.”

Doe laughed, folding up the quote and putting it into his pocket. Tavish took that as a good sign.

“I’ll take ‘two decades of experience’ over that wide-mouthed little munchkin any day. I accept your services Mr. DeGroot.”

“Please, if we’re goin’ tae be seein’ each other for the next three months, you might as well call me Tavish.”

They shook hands for the third time. As they talked out a schedule, Tavish added, “I’m still nae goin’ tae be able tae do much with that photo. Where’d you see the original?”

“The Salvation Army. I wanted to buy it, but I was late for work so I just got a picture. Not my fault there’s so many do-dads,” Doe grumbled.

“Well, see if you can get that photo printed out. The library might help you blow it up if you ask very sweetly.”

“Will do,” Doe responded in a crisp, almost military like fashion.

The bell rang once again as the man in the big hat evacuated the parlor. When the tinkling receded, Scout poked his head out of the back, a skeptical expression on his face.

“Admiral Stone Age finally beat it?”

“You heard all that, did you?” Tavish asked.

“Walls ain’t exactly thick, man.” Scout hopped onto one of the swivel chairs and put his feet on another. “An’ that ain’t the only thing I heard. ‘Not in places I show to random men’? Could you _be_ more obvious?”

Tavish rolled his eye. “Oh like you havnae chatted up every girlie who so much as stepped in here. Besides, I wasnae flirtin’.”

“Hey, at least I’m honest about it. None of this ‘just bein’ friendly’ crap.”

“You’re full o’ hot air.”

“Dude. He had _socks with sandals_. Have some standards. I’m just sayin’.”


	2. The Bird

Doe arrived early, Scout still finishing his five o’clock as Tavish lead the customer to his chair. He was dressed in a different blue button-down this time, but the same hat and sandals. Now that Scout had pointed out the footwear, it was difficult to ignore.

“Alright, see you in a couple weeks big guy,” Scout said to his client and closed his case.

Once at the exit, the large man pulled out a hefty tip from his wallet and handed it to Scout with a polite nod. Scout grinned at the tip eagerly, zipping out of the room as soon as hid patron had left. Tavish always wondered about their Russian regular. If he had so much money to toss around, why did he go for one of the cheaper apprentices instead of Tavish? The owner suspected it had more to do with Scout himself than anyone’s actual skill level.

“I have a bigger picture now,” Doe said, handing Tavish a manila folder.

“You may have a bigger picture, but I have somethin’ even better,” Tavish responded.

As Doe looked on, Tavish pulled a framed painting from behind his inkstand. It was the eagle, flying beautifully in all its patriotic glory.

“You found it! What…how did…?”

“I remembered what you said a little after you left. There’s only one Salvation Army in the area, so I though I’d try it out. Lo and behold, this little beauty was still up for grabs!”

“You did not have to do that,” Doe said rubbing the back of his neck.

“Ah, but I did anyway. It’s easier tae work from the real thing. And besides, I like tae collect art. You’ve seen the drawin’ room, you ken that.”

Doe nodded, glancing shyly between the painting and Tavish.

“Now sit down,” Tavish told him. “We got work tae do.”

Unbuttoning his shirt, Doe sat comfortably on the chair. He hung the blue top on the armrest, distracted while Tavish pulled out an electric razor.

As he began to cut the brown hair littering Doe’s chest, Tavish tried hard not to look at the thick scars formed beneath his fingers. Those sorts of things weren’t his business, no matter how curious they were. Instead, he focused on the other tattoos already coating Doe’s body; those were always a safe topic.

“Were you in the army?” he asked, noticing the serial number on the inner arm. A common one for service men.

“Yes,” Doe replied stiffly.

“Where’d you serve?”

“Iraq. Afghanistan. Everywhere.”

Alright, touchy subject. Tavish tried to bring it back to his tattoos.

“That explains this one,” he said, tapping Doe’s right arm. “ ‘S a Sailor Jerry. Real common style in the navy, ‘n military in general.”

The Sailor Jerry was a pinup girl, dressed in stars and stripes with ‘USA’ hanging above her head. Tavish was starting to see a pattern.

“Yeah, buddy of mine gave it to me. He’s dead. Don’t ask about him,” Doe said before Tavish could even open his mouth. “These ones too. Different buddies. Ones who weren’t dead.”

On his words, Doe indicated his stomach and other arm accordingly. The tummy tattoo was a shovel with the words “hard to kill” emblazed over it. The arm one wasn’t quite as neat: a rather shakily done US logo that had faded to almost nothing.

“So this is your first professional tattoo?”

“Yes,” Doe said. His voice was crisp, on the verge of being offended.

“Nae to insult your mates or nothin’. I just want tae ken your experience is all. In fact,” Tavish said, tapping Doe’s stomach, “this one in particular is pretty impressive.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

They fell into comfortable silence while Tavish cleaned the skin. As Tavish began to make the first marks with the needle, Scout wandered in to clean up his things.

“Dat was my last appointment for the day,” the apprentice reported. “Mind if I go home?”

“Did you clean up the bathroom like I asked?” Tavish said without turning around.

“Uh…yes?”

“Are you lyin’ tae me Scout?”

Scout’s shoulder’s slouched. He dejectedly walked into the back to grab the mop.

“He’d have it a lot easier if he just did things when I asked him,” Tavish told Doe disapprovingly.

“He your only apprentice?” Doe asked, staring after the disgruntled young man.

“No, but he’s the one who’s here the most. The others come a few days a week, but Scout works every day I do, and some I don’t. He’s also the only one who comes in after two.”

“Hm. I guess he’s the only one I’ll be seeing then. I work ‘til four.”

“We’re open on the weekend too.”

“I work ‘til four everyday,” Doe replied without a hint of emotion.

Jesus. “Where do you work?” Tavish encouraged.

“The power plant. Couldn’t find work when I got home, but a buddy of mine said there was an opening out here. He’s dead now too. Unrelated. Slipped in the tub.”

Tavish was extremely grateful he was looking at Doe’s chest and not his face. “Jesus lad. I’m real sorry tae hear that.”

“It is okay. It puts bread on the table.”

Tavish had meant more about his friend than his sucky job, but Doe didn’t seem bothered either way. They spent the rest of their session talking about their respective employments, Doe working fulltime at the plant for the past six years, and Tavish owning his own business. Tavish got the impression Doe was barely getting by, and felt a strange sense of concern. He obviously didn’t have a lot of spare cash, so what was he doing blowing six-hundred bucks at an upscale tattoo parlor? But that was a thought Tavish had to keep to himself. It wasn’t any of his business what his clients did with their money, especially when it went into Tavish’s pocket.

Doe also asked Tavish about his work. Most people lamented about how easy he must have it, making it out like he was living some sort of fairytale and he hated talking about his shop to people like that. It had taken a lot of sweat and tears to build the _Eye of the Beholder_ up from nothing; every permit, inspection, and visa a struggle to make it happen. Doe seemed to get that. It wasn’t romantic to him. It was just a job like anything else.

The hour flew by, and Tavish was sad to see it go. The eagle stretched majestically across Doe’s chest as he put his shirt back on, much farther along than Tavish expected. Tavish simply worked better when he had a chatty customer.

“Alright, now keep it clean until I see you again. Dunnae want tae ruin all me hard work.”

“Understood,” Doe replied, but without the formality of his last goodbye. After he had passed from the shop, he gave Tavish an enthusiastic thumbs up from beyond the glass windows.

Tavish grinned. He could do with more patrons like Doe.

* * *

“So, ya ask him out yet?”

“I told you before I’ll tell you again: I’m nae interested.”

“Sure you ain’t. Listen pally, I’ve known you for eight years. I can tell when you’re puttin’ on the fake smiley face, an’ that ain’t it.”

“Shouldnae you be buildin’ some new needles?”

“Hey, I’m askin’ the questions here. Is that a ‘no’ to askin’ him out?”

“Yes.”

“Good. ‘Cause I tell ya, he is _not_ pleasant to look at.”

“What? That nae even–How can you tell? You dunnae even like guys.”

“I don’t have to suck his dick to know you’re way out of his league.”

“ _Needles_ , Scout.”

“Yeah yeah. I’m just sayin’.”

* * *

As the months went on, Doe became more and more comfortable in the studio. He met some of the other regulars, happy to talk with them as well as Tavish. Tavish even managed to broker a temporary truce between him and Scout, something that held as long as Doe wasn’t having one of his off days.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Tavish said on their second to last appointment, “why do you always dress like that?”

Doe turned his head toward him, a motion Tavish caught in the corner of his eye. They rarely looked at each other when they talked, Tavish focusing on his work and Doe gazing at the ceiling.

“Blue is my favorite color.”

Tavish paused a moment before he burst out laughing. “Well it certainly matches your eyes, but that’s nae what I meant lad. You’re always dressed like you’re goin’ tae Madrid instead o’ Washington. I mean, it’s five bloody degrees out right now for Christ’s sake!”

Doe raised an eyebrow. “No it isn’t. The rain isn’t frozen.”

“Ach. I mean it’s…” Tavish stopped as he tried to remember how to convert things into Fahrenheit. “Ah nevermind. I’m tryin’ tae ask about the clothes. You must be from somewhere real bloody cold tae be dressed like that all the time.”

“Wisconsin,” Doe finally replied. “But got moved to some homes in Michigan too.”

“You’re a foster kid?” Tavish asked, and Doe nodded.

Shit. Doe really had it tough, an abandoned veteran and now a foster kid too. Not to mention it seemed like every friend he brought up turned out to be dead or institutionalized.

Tavish hesitated. Evenly, he replied, “hey, me too.”

“Really?” Doe asked, glancing at him again.

“Aye. Got bobbled around a few places, but I eventually got adopted. Moved tae America when I reconnected with me birth parents, and I’ve been takin’ care o’ me Mum in her last couple o’ years.”

Tavish rarely told anyone about being a foster child. Usually, he just told people the crossing the pond bit.

“I had no idea.”

“Yeah, well,” Tavish dithered, “I dunnae tell many people. I dunnae like people blammin’ her for givin’ me up.”

“Don’t you?”

Tavish faltered again. “I…I dunnae. I mean, I understand why they did it. Nae everyone’s cut out for parenthood. But still…tae think I could’ve had a regular childhood…It’s hard nae tae hold ontae a little resentment for that.”

“But you still picked her over your other parents,” Doe said. Tavish shot him a bitter look. “Family should be who sticks with you, not who you’re bound to by blood.”

“It’s nae like I abandoned them!” Tavish defended. “It’s just…she needs me more. My other parents are doin’ fine on their own.”

Tavish went back to shading the eagle’s wing, insulted, but not sure why.

Doe didn’t say anything for a while. He was no longer looking at Tavish, instead gazing at the eagle painting off to his left. Distantly, he said, “my first real family was my unit.”

Tavish held his breath for a second, waiting for Doe to go on.

“The six of us were closer than brothers. We were all rejects or outcasts, but we had each other and that’s what mattered. There’s nothing stronger than bonds formed with sweat and spilled blood.” He looked down at Tavish. “I am not passing judgment. I am only saying you should remember who is important to you.”

Tavish etched a layer of brown into a long feather. “I will. Promise.”

Doe returned his attention to the ceiling. Maybe he was regretting sharing so much personal history all at once, or maybe he had said all he wanted to say. Either way, the rest of the hour was spent in silence.

The final session came and went without incident.

The fact that nothing happened was surprising for some reason, like Tavish waiting for a huge announcement, or a sign from God. Instead, the appointment passed like any other, Doe back to his usual self. They talked about nothing of any real substance, chatting as Tavish put the last few details into the flag. While he worked, Scout lurked around the room, pretending to busy himself with various things. If he weren’t in such a good mood, Tavish would tell him to piss off.

Finally, the tattoo was finished. As Doe handed the final payment, Tavish stopped short. “Hold on Mr. Doe. I think you may have put a bit extra here.”

Doe shook his head. “No, that’s the tip.”

“You’re givin’ me a _fifty percent_ tip?”

“Yes, well…” Doe wrung his hands. “The service here has been…extraordinary.” He straightened. “Exemplary work deserves an exemplary reward.”

Tavish stared at the wad of cash in his hands. “Mr. Doe, I really can’t take this-”

“Please,” Doe interrupted. “I insist.”

Looking between Doe and the tip, Tavish swallowed. “Well, alright then.” Money’s money after all.

After he pocketed the cash, he reached out for a handshake, which Doe took. “It’s been a real pleasure tae have you here at the _Eye of the Beholder_. Feel free tae come back any time.”

Doe shook. “I will. Come back, that is.” He opened and closed his mouth like he was about to say more and then thought better of it. “Goodbye Tavish.”

“As tae you Mr. Doe.”

With the sound of energetic tinkling, Doe departed the parlor. Once the he was sure their gruff customer had left, Scout turned to his boss and shook his head.

“You. Are. Pathetic.”


	3. The Heart

Tavish had expected Doe to be back.

Just not quite so soon.

Tavish was once again working in the back of the store when he heard the ringing of the bell. It was immediately followed by Scout’s cry of , “yo! Tav! Your boyfriend ‘s here.”

Getting to the front, Tavish discovered a very flustered looking Doe and a very smug looking Scout.

“You ken, one of these days I’ goin’ tae permanently assign you tae backroom duty.”

Scout shrugged and left reception.

“Sorry ‘bout him,” Tavish apologized for what felt like the hundredth time. “ ‘S good tae see you Mr. Doe. What are you doin’ here?”

“Well, uh,” Doe said, regaining his composure. “You said I could come back any time, so I…”

“Four days is a pretty short turnaround.”

Doe lost the poise he had just achieved. “I had another idea for a tattoo. And I thought ‘why wait?’ you know? So, um, here it is.” Doe handed Tavish a hand-drawn design on a sheet of writing paper. “I know it’s not as good as the eagle, but since it is simple I thought you would just use a stencil anyways.”

The drawing was a heart, simple as Doe said. The name ‘Lt. Bites’ spanned across it.

“And where would you like it?”

Doe tapped his forearm, below the pinup girl.

“Alright,” Tavish agreed. “I can get it done in two. You free now, or are you comin’ back later?”

“In two?” Doe asked dejectedly. “As in two sessions?”

“Is that alright? I can put ‘em back tae back if you want it over with.”

“No, I was just hoping-” Doe caught himself. “Uh, nevermind. Two is fine.”

Doe began walking towards the studio, answering Tavish’s original question. Prepping the arm, Tavish took a quick glance at the drawing.

“Lieutenant, eh? He one of the men from your unit?”

“No,” Doe said as Tavish brought out the stencil. “Lieutenant Bites is the name of my cat.”

Tavish burst out laughing. “Your cat? You’re tellin’ me you have a _cat_?”

“I have many cats. The Lieutenant is merely to most ferocious and loyal and loyal of my feline brethren.”

Tavish’s laugh shook his entire body, igniting something strong and warm in his stomach. “Ah Mr. Doe, you sure ken how tae brighten a man’s day.”

Doe flushed and changed the subject. “You do not have to keep calling me ‘Mr. Doe’. Jane is fine.”

“Alright laddie. I just wasnae sure if I was goin’ tae offend you or somethin’.”

“Why would that offend me?” Jane asked, puzzled. “It is my name.”

Any response Tavish had was interrupted by a loud buzzing as Jane’s pocket vibrated. Jane stared at in confusion, as though he’d never heard his phone go off in his life. With his free hand, he reached into his pocket and pressed the green button on the phone’s face.

“Hello?”

Tavish heard a faint muttering on the other line.

“Free? Really?”

Jane was beaming. The person on the other line continued to talk.

“Oh, okay. Let me get out my card.” Jane shuffled in his seat, trying to reach for it.

Tavish grabbed Jane’s wrist. “Jane, what’s going on?”

“They said I’ve won a free cruise,” Jane said in a rather loud whisper. He was practically giddy with excitement. “All I have to do is give them my card information.”

“If it’s free, then why do they _need_ your information?”

Jane opened his mouth, but paused as when he couldn’t come up with a good answer.

“Here, let me help,” Tavish said, indicating the phone.

Jane hesitantly handed it over, and Tavish spoke into the receiver. “Hello, how can I help you?”

There a pause on the other end. Slowly, a cool female voice answered, “Mr…Doe?”

“No, Mr. Doe is busy at the moment. I can be o’ service tae whatever he was helpin’ you with.”

The voice balked again. “I…was just saying that Mr. Doe had won a free cruise to Tahiti for being a prime customer. We require-”

“A prime customer? A prime customer for who?”

“For- we are- I am calling on behalf of Firestone Automotive-”

“You got a car Jane?” Tavish asked, loud enough for the woman on the other end to hear.

Jane shook his head.

“Says he doesnae have a car,” Tavish told the woman.

“Please sir, this is a time-sensitive interaction. I could just get some information I would love to sort this out-”

“What’s the hurry lassie? Plannin’ on givin’ that cruise tae someone besides your prime customer?”

Jane’s expression had turned from delight to disgust, a sneer as he gazed at his phone.

“I just need-”

“I dunnae think you need anythin’ from him, luv. Dunnae call here again.” With that, Tavish tapped the phone off.

“Thanks,” Jane said as Tavish handed his phone back to him. “But why didn’t you just hang up on her if you knew she was a fake?”

“I prefer tae show rather than tell. Those people like tae target us older folks, think we’re gullible. Now you won’t be caught with your britches down next time, aye?”

Jane glared at his phone. “I cannot _believe_ people just go around saying anything they want. If I had meet one of those snake oil peddlers face-to-face I would have-”

“Nothin’ tae get riled up over Jane,” Tavish said, patting his arm. “ ‘S over, aye? I just can’t believe you’ve never got a scam call before.”

Jane shrugged. “I only got the phone a few years ago. Never needed one before. My landlord made me get one so she could bother me about rent.”

Tavish scribbled something on a piece of paper. “Well here’s some friendly advice: if they talk fast, they’re nae someone worth talkin’ tae. Most legitimate business will let you call them back at a better time, or write down their name ‘n number so you can check ‘em out first. Here,” Tavish said, handing over what he had written. “This is my number. If you’re ever nae sure about somethin’ just give me a call. I’ll help when I can.”

Jane stared at the paper increducloulsy. “You really don’t have to do that.”

“Hey, I look out for me patrons. Besides, cannae buy any more of me services if you get swindled out o’ all your cash, can you?” Tavish grinned as he began the outline of the heart.

There was nothing Jane could say to that. He tucked the number into his pocket.

* * *

“This is incredible.”

“Nae now Scout.”

“This is actually freakin’ incredible. You gave him your number. You literally _gave him your number_.”

“It’s nae like that and you ken it.”

“I’m just sayin’ man, ya can’t keep beatin’ around the bush.”

“You’ve been ‘just sayin’’ a lot o’ things as of late.”

“Have to. You ain’t sayin’ nothin’, so someone’s gotta.”

“I cannae tell if you _want_ me tae ask him out nae.”

“I don’t, obviously. He’s got those too-close-together eyes and looks like he’s never seen a dentist in his life.”

“Lord in heaven, _why_ do I keep you around?”

“ ‘Cause ya love me.”

“Hmm. Well. Sometimes you make me doubt it.”

* * *

“Why do both of you wear red everyday?”

Tavish looked up from where he was putting the finishing touches on the “N”.

“Is it your favorite color too?” Jane continued.

“Er, no. The logo o’ the store’s a red rose, so I have us all wear red tae match.”

“Oh,” Jane said thoughtfully. “Why is it a red rose? Shouldn’t it be an eye?”

Tavish shrugged. “When I designed it, I was thinkin’ ‘beauty’s in the eye of the beholder’ and ‘even beautiful roses have thorns’. Just combined the two ideas. Besides, I thought the eye reference was obvious enough.”

Jane stared at him.

“…Because I only have the one?”

“Oh.” Jane looked away, embarrassed.

“Did you nae realize that? I mean, it’s okay if you dinnae-”

“Of course I realized it! I’m not an idiot!”

“I dinnae say you were-”

“You were thinking it,” Jane growled. He avoided Tavish’s gaze and glared at the opposite wall, steaming like a bowl of stew.

Tavish grew quiet, waiting for his friend to cool off.

“Jane,” he coaxed.

Jane let out a slow breath. “Sorry. I just don’t like when people think…”

“I ken lad, I ken. It’s alright.”

Pride is choleric, and Jane had a lot of pride. Tavish was used to his small outbursts, and they were easy to manage if you knew it what to say.

“I do have a tattoo o’ the logo, if you’d like tae see it,” Tavish said once he was sure Jane had calmed.

“Oh. Uh, sure, why not?”

Carefully, Tavish set down his tools. He lifted the edge of his shirt, just enough to reveal the red flower blooming along his hipbone. Jane examinee it, then noticed the other tattoo along his left side. It was green and black, it’s over long neck curling back and over itself while it’s sharp teeth grinned out of its maw. Its lower body and tail stretched downward, disappearing into the edge of Tavish’s pants.

“Why do you have a lizard?”

“It’s the bloody Loc Ness Monster you-” Tavish was about to say ‘moron’, but considering Jane’s recent temper that seemed insensitive. He settled for, “areshole.”

Jane reached out to trace a thumb along the monster’s neck. It was beautiful, the scales and claws beyond detailed, and the neck so well shaded it seemed to come off the skin. Despite the rows and rows of teeth, it had an air of solemnity about it, making it terrifying rather than comical.

“Scout do this?” Jane asked in a voice that was uncharacteristically quiet.

“Ah…no. The guy who did this was a tad more…intimate than Scout.”

On the word “intimate,” Jane froze. He quickly retracted his hand, flushing, and looking anywhere but at Tavish. “…Sorry,” he muttered.”

“Ah, dunnae mind it,” Tavish replied, letting his shirt drop back into place. “Besides, I’ve been pokin’ n’ prodin’ you since day one. Fair’s fair.” Maybe Jane couldn’t tell, but Tavish began to reminisce as he picked up his tools again. “You ken, I think people regret their tattoos because they think they get them in bad faith. But…I dunnae. I dunnae think there’s much worth in havin’ regrets. You make your decisions, you live with them. Regrets dunnae change the past.

“Now, I’m nae sayin’ you should get each other’s name on the first date, that’s nae what I’m sayin’ at all. It’s just that…people come intae your life, and sometimes people go out of it.” Tavish indicated his left hip. “And just because someone leaves you doesnae mean they dinnae matter. Take me apprentices for example: some stay for two years, some only a couple o’ months. Either way they made an impact on me and me shop, and I keep their stuff around tae remember them.”

Mournfully, Jane looked at his neglected friend. “At least you still have Scout,” he supplied.

Tavish chuckled, much softer than his usual laugh. “Aye, that’s true. He’s a good one, he is; he’s been with me longer than the rest of apprentices combined. In fact, at this point, he’s an apprentice in name only with all the crap he does for me. And he’s bloody _talented_ , too. I’ve been practicing for _years_ , and yet this kid half me age is puttin’ out stuff nearly as good as mine.”

“What the hell are you talking about? You’re a great artist,” Jane interrupted.

“I’m good from a reference or a stencil, but Scout’s got _inspiration_. You should see his free-hands, or, hell, even most of his sketches. It’s hard nae tae be jealous.” Tavish laughed. “But look at me goin’ on. I ken I wouldn’t be anywhere without him. Do you remember when you said your unit was your family?”

Jane nodded.

“Well Scout’s mine. If you judge family as the people who stick with you, then Scout’s the greatest family I’ve ever had. But,” Tavish said looking Jane straight in the eye, “if you _ever_ tell him I said any o’ that I’m goin’ tae call every phishing scam in the greater Seattle area upon you and your big ole’ head. Aye?”

Though his words were serious, there were no bite to his tone. Jane grinned.

“Understood.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHO IS THIS?? YOU HAVE THE WRONG NUMBER.


	4. The Battle Cry

Tavish rubbed the sleep from his eye as he went to grab his buzzing phone.

“Hello?” he asked, holding is phone with one hand and spinning the ‘Open’ sign with the other.

“Hello Tavish! It’s Jane.”

“Jane? How did-” Before he could ask how Jane got his number, he remembered the incident with the telemarketer. “Right. Did you want somethin’ Jane?”

“Yes! I want another tattoo.”

“And you had tae call me for that?”

“This is the only break I get today. I wanted to call in ahead of time, to let you know I’m coming.”

Tavish pulled out the broom from the back. One of his workers was out sick, and he’d have to clean before his first appointment of the day showed up.

“That’s great ‘n all,” he said, leaning on the broom, “but this is my _personal_ cell. I was expecting you tae use it for-” he cut himself off. “Ach, nevermind. When do you want tae come in?”

“Is six okay?”

“Sure, sure. See you at six.”

“Great.” There was a pause when Tavish was sure Jane would hang up, but instead he heard him say, “So…how is your morning going?”

Tavish rubbed the bridge of his nose. He didn’t have time to chat, not when he was down a man, but he wasn’t sure he had the heart to tell Jane. He was just about make an attempt at saying goodbye when he had an idea. Setting the phone on the counter, he switched it to speaker, and grabbed the broom with both hands.

“Nae well. Got a rough start with one of me apprentices nae showin’ up for the day. How ‘bout you?”

Jane began to talk about the inspection they had to sit through that morning; it had been so incredibly dull he wanted to chew off his own arm, but had settled on taking his break early. He hadn’t said it directly, but Tavish knew he was actually grateful he had someone to talk to.

And, to be honest, Tavish quite enjoyed it too.

* * *

“Can I have off this weekend?”

“No.”

“What, that’s it? Just ‘no’? Not even a ‘maybe if ye dunnae cause trooble fer me t’day I’ll consider it’?”

“I dunnae sound like that.”

“Sure ya do.”

“I dunnae, and you can’t have off because I have three appointments this weekend and I need someone tae man reception.”

“Yeah, but _I_ don’t have any appointments.”

“What if we get a walk-in? You really want tae miss prime earnin’ hours just so you can go chase skirts?”

“Hey, sometimes I _catch_ skirts, which is more than I can say for you.”

“The answer’s still ‘no’, Scout.”

“You suck.”

“Nah. You love me.”

“Pssh. Whatever.”

* * *

The arrival of Jane had become a routine now, and Tavish had the forethought to chase Scout away ahead of time. The two Americans couldn’t start a fight if they were nowhere near each other, after all. The peace between them was delicate, and better untested.

“Alright laddie, what’s the new idea you’ve got for me?”

This time when Jane passed him a piece of paper, it wasn’t a drawing. It was the words “Kill ‘Em All” in Jane’s familiar shaky script.

“It’s a thing we’d say before a big fight. Nothing better than crushing your enemies in a rain of blood!”

“ _Kill ‘em all,”_ Tavish chuckled. “I like that.”

Jane flushed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Sounds better when you say it.” Tavish raised an eyebrow at him, and he flushed even harder.

“Well, this should take less than an hour,” Tavish concluded. “Sure you dunnae want Scout tae do it? It’s nae that complicated.”

“No, no I’d rather- uh, it’s fine. You can do it.”

Tavish shrugged. "Alright, over here then. Where’s it goin’?”

“Lower back?”

The question “so you want a tramp stamp?” almost escaped Tavish’s throat. He quickly thought better of it.

He began to etch the battle cry into Jane’s skin, writing it out in a fancy gothic script Jane had picked. The time passed quickly, simple work leaving Tavish’s mind free to talk about Scout and his latest annoyances. Jane, in turn, filled him in on the rest of his day.

“Thanks for doing this last minute, by the way,” Jane mentioned offhand.

“Ah, dunnae mention it. Besides, it’s a bit o’ a treat: I dunnae usually get guys tae take their shirts off for me more than once.”

Jane spluttered something.

“Sorry lad, dinnae catch that.”

“Uh, nothing,” Jane managed to stammer after a few minutes. His back had turned a shade of pink, and it wasn’t from the needle.

“And…done!” Tavish concluded, leaning back to admire the small half-circle of letters at the base of Jane’s spine.

Jane stood in front of the mirror so he could see it.

“It’s great,” he said, barely holding back his untamed glee. “Just like the other ones.”

“Well, it’s nae all my doin’, you ken,” Tavish replied. “I happen tae have a very good model.”

This time when Jane blushed, it ran from his back all the way to the tips his ears. He hurriedly put his shirt back on as Tavish cleaned up.

As Jane fumbled with his wallet, Tavish considered what he wanted to say to the other man. There wasn’t an easy way to put it, and he was afraid if he handled this wrong Jane would explode and he’d never see him again. Despite his concerns, that wasn’t an outcome he wanted at all.

They almost made it to the drawing room when Jane said, “So, for the next one, I’m thinking rockets, but with _wings_ on them.”

Tavish was barely able to suppress his sigh. “Actually, Jane, that’s something I wanted tae talk tae you about.”

Jane froze, sensing the seriousness in Tavish’s tone. “What do you mean?” He asked innocently.

“It’s no secret you’ve come by more in the past few months than any of my other regulars, and it’s nae because you have some sort of addiction. It cannae be ‘cause we’re the cheapest, nor ‘cause we’re the most convenient, but you keep comin’ back here, with shorter and shorter time in between appointments. The thing is: I cannae keep doin’ this. I cannae keep lettin’ you do this tae yourself when there’s somethin’ self-destructive goin’ on.”

A wave of fear passed over Jane’s face. The internal struggle was obvious, and it manifested the may most fear does: evolving into anger. “Just because I happen to get a couple tattoos in a row means I’m some sort of miscreant?!”

“That’s nae what I meant Jane-”

“A few months in and all the sudden my money isn’t good enough for you?!”

“It’s nae your money that’s the problem!” Tavish yelled back. “It’s _you_! I _know_ you dunnae have a lot of money lyin’ around, dunnae try tae deny it. I ken you’re strugglin’ tae get by and I cannae keep mindin’ me own business anymore. At first it was easy, pocketin’ a stranger’s cash, but it’s nae like that anymore. I _care_ about you Jane. And I cannae let you keep hurtin’ yourself for god knows what reason.”

Jane was stunned. He stared at Tavish, opening and closing his mouth, apparently having been out yelled.

Eventually, he found his voice. “Please don’t make me leave Tavish,” he pleaded.

“I dunnae want tae. I just…why are _doin’_ this tae yourself?”

“I…” Jane’s shoulder’s slouched. “I like it here.”

Whatever explanation Tavish had been expecting, it wasn’t that.

“I like having something to look forward to,” Jane continued. “I like this place, I like how everyone is close, like a community. This has been the only bright spot in my life for…I do not know how long. And I like _you_. I haven’t had a friend in so long I just wanted to keep seeing you and sometimes you’ll say things that make me think…you want to be more than just friends.”

Tavish relaxed, understanding finally coming to him. “You wanted tae keep seein’ me.”

Jane nodded, furiously rubbing the back of his neck.

“And you couldnae just ask me out like a normal person?”

Jane blinked for a few seconds, the fact he was no longer being expelled from the _Eye of the Beholder_ dawning on him. He grinned, a weak chuckle escaping him.

“There are lots o’ places we can go that dunnae involve blowin’ a hundred bucks just tae see each other,” Tavish finished.

“In that case,” Jane said sheepishly, “would you uh…like to go for lunch? There’s a really great ribs place that opened up on 112th street.”

“ ‘S already seven.”

“Oh,” Jane hesitated. “…Would you like to go for dinner?”

Tavish grinned back. “Hard nae to admire persistence.” He leaned back and shouted through the parlor, “Scout!”

“What?!”

“I’m takin’ the night off! Remember to close up!”

“What? No! You’ve got Helen comin’ in tonight and I am _not_ tellin’ her you cancelled again.”

“If you close, I’ll give you the next three weekends off.”

There were several seconds of silence.

“Alright lovebirds! You two have fun! Stay out as late as you want!”

Tavish rolled his eye.

He made his way to the door, where Jane sprung to action and held it open for him. Jane’s anxiety seemed to melt away as they walked, the sound of the bell already a distant memory.

“Oh,” Jane remembered suddenly. “I still didn’t pay you for today.”

Tavish smiled, placing his hand in the small of Jane’s back, just above where he knew the fresh tattoo was.

“I’ll make you a deal: you pay for dinner, and we’ll call it even.”

There was twinkle in Jane’s eye as he looked at him. “Alright. Should we shake on it?”

“Smartass,” Tavish laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you wouldn’t believe the amount of research I did just for this fic jfc. 
> 
> although on the plus side, I kinda want to drop out of college and become a tattoo artist now
> 
> im not sure if I should have an epilogue with them getting matching tattoos or it’s better to leave it like this
> 
> EDIT: i wrote the epilogue here you go my friends http://archiveofourown.org/works/8791261


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